CANADIAN NORTH-WEST

BY

ARGYLL SAXBY, M.A., F.R.G.S.

AUTHOR OF

"BRAVES, WHITE AND RED" "COMRADES THREE!"

"TANGLED TRAILS" ETC. ETC.

SECOND IMPRESSION

LONDON

THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY

4 Bouverie Street and 65 St. Paul's Churchyard

[Pg 3]

CHAPTER I

A PERILOUS PASSAGE

"Well, good-bye, boys! You won't go far from camp before we return, will you?" The speaker was one of two men seated in an Indian canoe. He gripped the forward paddle, while his companion at the stern added cheerfully—

"The backwoods is not the City of London. There are no policemen to appeal to if you lose your way. Besides, we hope to find dinner waiting for our return. Hunting lost sons is not the same sport as hunting moose."

Both the boys laughed at the elder man's remark, and one—Bob Arnold by name—answered—

"Don't worry about us, father. Alf and I can take care of ourselves for half a day. Can't we, Alf?"[Pg 5]

"Rather," the younger chum replied. "It's our respected parents who'll need to take care of themselves in unknown waters in that cockleshell." Then he called out merrily, imitating the tone of the first speaker—his father: "Take care of yourselves, dads! Remember the Athabasca River is not Regent Street!"

"Cheeky youngster!" returned the elder man banteringly, as he struck the forward paddle into the water. "There's not much of the invalid left about you after three months' camping."

Then with waving hands and pleasant chaffing, that showed what real good chums the quartette were, the men struck out for the centre of the river, leaving their sons watching from the strand before the camp that was pitched beneath the shadow of the great pine trees.

It was a glorious morning—just the right sort for a hunting-expedition. The air was just chilly enough to render paddling a welcome exercise, and just warm enough to allow intervals of pleasant drifting in the centre of the current when there were no shoals or driftwood to be avoided.

"Yes," remarked Holden, the younger of the two men, as the rhythm of the dripping paddles[Pg 6] murmured pleasantly with Nature's music heard from leafy bough and bush; "yes, Alf's a different boy now. Who would have believed that these three short months would have changed a fever-wasted body into such a sturdy frame?"

"It looks like a miracle," returned the other man. "It was a great idea, that of a six months' trapping in the backwoods. When we get back to England we'll all four look as healthy as savages. My Bob is the colour of a redskin."

"It was a great blessing that you were able to bring him. It wouldn't have been half as enjoyable for Alf, not having a chum."

The elder man laughed softly as he turned a look of good-comradeship towards his companion.

"That's just as it ought to be, Holden," he said. "You and I were chums at school, chums at college, and now chums in business. It's the right thing that our sons should follow our good example. At least, that's my opinion."

"And you know it's mine," was the response. "But, I say! Do you think we are wise to keep quite in the centre of the current? It seems to be driving pretty hard, and we don't know the course. We might wish to land if we saw rapids."

"I dare say you are right," replied Arnold.[Pg 7] "We'll steer straight across that bend ahead of us. After that we can keep well under the shadow of the willows—or near them. We will look for a good landing spot and strike inwards. There ought to be moose or some equally good sport among those bluffs and clearings."

It is one thing to make plans; it is quite another matter to carry them out. Especially is this the case when strangers are travelling in strange country.

Of course the present mode of travel was no novelty to either of the men. Their youth had been passed in Western Canada (though not in the vicinity of the present voyage) before their parents sent them home to college in England. But even the hardened voyager knows that experience does not anticipate all chances, and this case was no exception to the rule.

The river was certainly beginning to run at a pace that was perceptibly swifter than that of the start when two miles farther up. This did not give any cause for concern, however, for the ears of the travellers were prepared for any sound that indicated rapids, and there was no other contingency that they felt need to dread.

At a little distance ahead, the course could be[Pg 8] seen to take a sharp turn to the right, where the dense growth of beech and towering pines resembled the portals of a giant gateway; and, as it neared the opening, the canoe swung round the curve with the swift flight of a swallow.

It was a sudden change of pace, due mainly to the sharpness of the turn. But as soon as the men fully entered the fresh span of the course they both started involuntarily, for the banks were so steep as to prohibit landing, and the river narrowed towards a second gateway formed by towering cliffs—steep as a Colorado cañon.

"Look out!" exclaimed Holden, as he knelt high and gripped his paddle firmly. "Leave the steering to me, I can manage better from the stern. Come back here if you can."

The canoe had already begun to dance among foaming crests like an egg-shell.

Arnold crept towards his companion.

"Not a pleasant look out!" he remarked, with a grim smile on his face. "It will be a marvel if we get through that cañon with dry skins."

"Dry skins!" laughed Holden. His voice was laughing, but his eyes were fixed steadily a few yards in front of the canoe with that firm gaze of a brave man looking peril straight in the[Pg 9] face. "Dry skins! It'll be a greater marvel if we get through it with any skins at all!"

"We'll have a good try, anyway," responded Arnold. Then he remarked quaintly: "This is like old times, isn't it—you and I out in a scrape together? I hope the Head won't blow us up for it when we get back to school!"

The river had now entered the narrow course, and was rushing on a foaming way with an awesome roar.

Now and then the canoe would leap to one side as a wave hungrily licked her prow; sometimes she would push her nose into a crest that splashed the travellers with spray. Fortunately the spring torrents were over, and danger from drifting logs was not to be reckoned with, but the possibility that rocks might be hidden among the white waves was a reasonable cause for concern—all the more so, considering that they were unknown.

Onwards they dashed at breakneck speed, while both the men sat grimly silent, prepared to take bravely whatever fate might be in store for them. Probably their thoughts were more of the two boys at the camp than of their present strait—more engaged with commending their[Pg 10] sons to the care of God than speculating as to the result of this adventure.

Then, with a suddenness that gave no time for thought, there was a crash like crackling match-wood—a rush of water that seemed to crush all within its embrace. Next moment the two men were struggling in the stream.

At that crisis, Arnold's first thought was for his friend—just as it had always been since he fought his chum's first battles at school.

He grabbed wildly, and held on to something that he afterwards found to be his friend's jacket.

"Are you all right?" he yelled above the din of the waters, as both men reached the surface.

"A1 at Lloyd's!" came the cheerful reply—undaunted even in extremity.

"That's good. We'll weather this yet. Hang on to my coat, and we'll keep together!"

Being expert swimmers, there was little cause for fear so long as the current passed clear of obstacles, and the men had little to do but keep a suitable position, for the force of the water bore them well on the surface. But the chief danger was from undercurrents and whirlpools, and as the boundaries of the river rapidly narrowed this risk became more serious every moment.[Pg 11]

As they rushed onwards, so the two walls of the cañon came nearer—shutting out the light until the scene resembled the gloomy depths of a seething cauldron.

Closer and closer came the walls; swifter and swifter rushed the water.

Now the limits were so narrow that the river was but a smooth riband darting between walls worn glassy by the wear of countless ages.

The friends came so close that they touched one another's shoulders.

That was one moment.

The next instant each felt himself shot forward through a narrow opening like a cork that is volleyed from a bottle; and when the men came to realise their position, they found themselves floating on the surface of a placid lake into which the cañon poured its flood.

They looked at one another. The adventure had parted them, but Arnold laughingly held up a portion of Holden's coat as a banner to signal his position.

"Our same old luck!" exclaimed Holden, laughing.

"It'll cost you a new coat!" returned Arnold with equal cheer.[Pg 12]

It was perhaps a hundred yards to the nearest shore, so the men immediately started in that direction. Both were considerably exhausted by the experiences through which they had providentially passed without serious injury, and consequently the progress was slow.

But at last they reached the bank, where the red and grey willows bent their long strands in a tangled trellis.

Knee deep in the mud, the men stood upright, to clear the way to freedom. But, as they parted the nearest branches, a number of arms were suddenly forced through the scrub; a number of hands gripped them with irresistible strength; and before they could realise what had happened they were rudely dragged up the bank of the lake.

[Pg 13]

CHAPTER II

DEER-STALKING

The boys did not find that time hung heavily on their hands when left to their own devices.

The two tents that marked the camp at Crane Creek were pitched on a grassy slope that led down to the Athabasca's dancing waters. This had been their camp-ground for several days after a desultory hunting pilgrimage from Loon Portage—the last town where they had left railways and civilisation. Having penetrated northwards into a region that was apparently remote from attacks of the plough and beyond the sound of the rancher's whoop, it was determined to make this a headquarters for a couple of months or so. Sport in much variety had already been found. Moose-tracks had been seen in the vicinity, and it had been with the hope of practically substantiating the discovery that the two elders had started off that morning.[Pg 14]

The boys' first consideration was that of dinner.

"Let's go into the woods and see what we can find!" Bob Arnold suggested to his chum, after they had watched the canoe disappear round a bend of the river. "There's only the carcase of a prairie chicken left in the larder. That won't be much to satisfy our paters when they come back."

"And we'll want to tackle a small morsel ourselves," added Holden. "I've never had such an appetite in my life until I came West. There's something inside me that is always calling out: 'Grub! Grub! Give me grub!'" And the boy sniffed the pine-scented air with relish, as a hungry street gamin sniffs the fragrance of a cook-shop.

Bob laughed as he strolled back to the tents and stuck a tin dipper into a wooden pail near by for a draught of cold water that had lately been taken from a moss-bordered spring.

"You're a freak of Nature; that's what you are, Alf. Two months ago you were as thin and white as a sheet of paper, and even Saturday's school resurrection-pie failed to tempt you. Now you are the colour of a redskin, and nothing is safe from your teeth!"

"I'll not deny that I'm sometimes a bit peckish,"[Pg 15] returned the younger boy, entering one of the tents and filling a cartridge belt, which he proceeded to buckle round his waist. Then he remarked with twinkling eyes: "Say! Mustn't the fellows at St. Wenford's be green with envy if they think of themselves swotting away in class while we're having the time of our lives in the backwoods? They'll all be back by this time, for the school was only to be closed for seven weeks, the doctor said. Lucky thing fever is—in some ways."

"In some ways—perhaps," repeated Bob in an undertone that had much seriousness in it, as he followed his friend's example in preparing for the hunt. "But it didn't seem very lucky—to me—when—when your dad was sent for, post-haste, that night. It didn't seem the best of luck then—to me, I mean."

"Nor to me," added Alf with equal seriousness. Both boys sighed at the memory, and then the younger resumed light-heartedly: "I tell you what it was, Bob, I was thoroughly riled with that fever. We always meant to be chums for the rest of our lives, just like our dads; and it put my back up to find the fever trying to upset our plans. That's what did it. Once I got the[Pg 16] spirit of fight into me, I knocked the stuffing out of the old fever!"

"That you did!" laughed Arnold. "The doctors said they never saw anything like your recovery, once you set to work. Well, I'm fixed up for shooting. Are you all right? Better take hunting-knives. They come in handy."

"And a repeating rifle, in case of big game. One will be enough; we can take turns in carrying it."

"All aboard. I'll just see that the camp-fire is properly stamped out, and then we'll set off."

In a short time all preparations were completed, and the two boys were ready to enjoy a morning's adventure in any form that it chose to offer.

Having hopes that something bigger than duck or chicken might reward their efforts, the chums immediately struck inwards through the bush, following an old trail from a buffalo wallow that was the ancient path of those bovines when they sought water to drink or mud to wallow in when the mosquitoes were troublesome.

Beyond chipmunks, gophers, and a single jack-rabbit (the latter falling to Bob's gun), nothing was met to tempt powder for some time. Then they reached a large "slough" that in[Pg 17] early spring would be a small lake, though now it was filled with long blue grass and wild lavender. Here the boys paused as they examined the clearing.

"It's a likely-looking place for rattlesnakes," Bob remarked. "It hardly seems probable that—— What's that?—Over there in the centre?" The speaker's voice had suddenly dropped to an excited undertone as he pointed to a couple of small dark marks that peeped above long grass and might have been the ends of a broken branch.

Alf stared keenly for a few moments.

"I thought I saw them move——"

"So did I. Wait a minute and we'll make sure."

Keeping as still as statues, the boys waited in silence with both pairs of eyes steadily fixed upon the dark objects, and the pulses of each gave a sudden jump, for then the points moved and sank among the long grass.

"Antelope! Those are horns!" decided Alf, to which Bob returned, with a sly dig at his chum's ribs—

"'Horns?' Antlers, you old duffer! We're not hunting cows!"[Pg 18]

"Same thing," was the retort. "Horns or antlers both mean deer in these parts." Next the boy gave a slight start. "Say! I thought I heard the branches moving above my head!"

The young hunters turned to look upwards among the dense leaves of a gigantic maple tree whose lower branches were matted with twining convolvulus and other wild creepers.

"A bird or a chipmunk," was Bob's decision. "In any case, whatever it is, this antelope comes first. We are both at windward, though I guess he hasn't scented us yet on account of the long grass. But I think it would be better if we got round to the lee-side and waited for him to rise."

"How would it be if I were to stay here, in case he comes this way?" Alf suggested. "You could take the rifle——"

"A good idea. No, you keep the rifle," amended Bob, falling in with the suggestion. "If I get to lee, I'll be near enough to do damage with the breech-loader. If I fail, you'll have the longer sight with the rifle."

"All right," said Holden. "I'll wait just where I am behind this red willow. I'll not fire until I'm certain that your gun is out of it."[Pg 19]

"Good. I'm off," responded Bob, and immediately he started a cautious creeping journey in the shelter of the bush, in hopes of reaching the lee-side of the slough without attracting the attention of the animal that was apparently resting in innocent bliss among the cool blue grass.

During his silent guard Alf a second time thought that he heard a rustling above his head. But, following former experience, he thought that the sound was due to nothing more than a flying squirrel at the most, and he did not allow his eyes to be diverted from the spot where the signs of the antelope had last been seen.

By and by he at last caught sight of his chum. Bob had reached the farther end of the oval slough, and had risen to show himself. He waved his arm to announce his position before creeping down to the grass. Holden answered the signal, and rose to be ready for emergencies. But, as he moved his right foot, he stepped upon something soft, whereupon he was startled by a cry like that of a kitten. He gave a swift glance downwards, and saw that he had inadvertently trodden on something small and furry which was now expressing pain by means of shrill infantile wails.[Pg 20]

But his attention was immediately diverted by the sight of a dark body starting up from the long grass in the slough. At the same instant he heard the sharp crack of Arnold's gun. Alf darted the butt of his rifle to his shoulder, to be in readiness for an emergency shot; but, before the position was attained, something launched down upon him from the trees—bearing him forwards into the willow bush, while the forest echoed with the snarls of an infuriated wild beast.

[Pg 21]

CHAPTER III

THE LONELY CAMP

A lynx may be only a cat, but a cat that is the size of a young tiger, with all a tiger's ferocity, is no pleasant opponent at any time. Add to naturally aggressive tendencies the fact that her baby has cried out in pain, and you have an angry mother-fiend that takes a deal of seeking to find her equal in fierceness.

In this case the lynx had been watching the young hunters with one eye for some time from her shelter among the leaves of the overhanging maple. She had been keeping the other eye upon her offspring, having an idea that the humans might endanger its safety; and, when she heard the cry of pain, she simply dropped from her branch right upon Holden's back, fixing her claws in his coat and snapping furiously at his neck.

Luckily the boy's hunting-coat was of tough[Pg 22] buckskin, and when the lynx set her teeth in the collar she imagined that she was wreaking vengeance upon flesh and blood. And the sound she made was enough to chill the marrow.

Arnold had heard the scream and his chum's cry of surprise at the sudden assault. But he did not understand it at first. He surmised vaguely that it was nothing more than sympathetic rejoicing at his successful shot that had toppled a fine buck antelope in the grass.

However, second thoughts quickly dispelled the first surmise, for he heard Holden calling upon him in evident trouble.

"Bob! Come quickly! There's something on my back, and I can't get at it!"

Bob dashed into the long grass as the shortest route. But before he had crossed the slough Alf had managed to free himself from one sleeve of his coat, and had got the lynx beneath him.

Now it was a hand-to-hand fight. The claws of the animal seemed to be everywhere. They struck with lightning swiftness, and the teeth snapped like steel gins. In fact, the boy's opponent was simply a mass of fur and claws—nothing that could be gripped, but everything that could wound.[Pg 23]

"Don't shoot!" exclaimed Alf, as his friend appeared with gun half raised in his hands. "You can't get a clean shot at her—ugh! the brute! She's clawed my shoulder!"

It was a fierce struggle while it lasted.

Hot and panting, Alf fought to get a grip of the creature's throat. She, on her part, seemed to divine his purpose, and battled successfully to prevent him.